


Reckless

by ChasingPerfectionTomorrow



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, F/M, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingPerfectionTomorrow/pseuds/ChasingPerfectionTomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Smaug never existed and Prince Kili finds himself inexplicably attracted to the Elven Guard Captain. Much to everyone's distress. (Prompt Fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Kili Eats His Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrel/gifts).



> Yeaaaaaah, this was supposed to be just a cute, short little one shot, but I got to 11,000 words and said 'Eh, maybe we'll make it a two or three shotter. Well, this fic was written for the lovely Irrel (who did the artwork for the cover of my fic 'The Heir Apparent' and it's seriously the most beautiful thing EVER. Go check her out on Tumblr; user name 'Irrel').
> 
> Prompt: What would happen if Smaug had never taken Erebor and Kili had grown up a Prince while Tauriel was still the Captain of the Royal Guard? How would events unfold if they met and were attracted to one another?

**Part One: In Which Kíli Eats His Words**

* * *

"Kee, if we're late again Uncle is going to kill us." Fíli said dryly, tapping his foot and scowling from the open doorway of his younger brother's messy bedchambers.

The impatient Heir Apparent was dressed in shining bronze armor and a cascading red cloak trimmed in ram fur that flowed proudly across his broad shoulders to brush the stone floor. His flaxen hair and beard had been braided with gems and beads and a golden circlet graced his brow, highlighting his fair features and his deep scowl. It was common knowledge that the young Prince, heir to the great dwarven throne, was the most sought after bachelor in both Erebor and the Iron Hills.

His younger brother was a close second.

Kíli fumbled with the clasp of his heavy blue cloak as he managed to _finally_ get his feet into his boots. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he sported a fading bruise under his left eye with an angry red scrape under his chin, remnants of a mock duel gone too far. While Fíli was golden and pristine, the picture of what everyone _expected_ a Son of Durin to be, Kíli was dark and rakish, always getting into mischief and never behaving as he should. The women of Erebor swooned over Fíli it was true, but they whispered to one another behind closed doors about the 'reckless' younger brother.

Kíli cursed violently under his breath as his fine mithril broach snagged on the collar of his tunic. If he hadn't been wearing his thrice damned ceremonial armor, getting dressed would have been _so_ much easier. Someone had polished the fine steel breast plate to a high shine -certainly not him- and it was half blinding him in the bright torch light. He suspected his mother was to blame.

"He wouldn't murder us in front of the Elves, Fee," he said lightly as he finally managed to close the clasp and whirled in search of his crown.

"He'd wait until they were gone at least, giving us plenty of time to escape. Ahah!" He leapt across the room and snatched his crown from its place of honor atop an old wooden training dummy that he'd managed to sneak up from the yard. He'd painted Dwalin's face on it, complete with shaggy bits of old fur for hair and beard. He'd spent hours getting the scowl _just_ right.

"Now where is my bloody sword!" He cried, spinning in a mad circle and shoving his crown onto his head.

"Here, you giant pain in my arse," Fíli said and threw the sword, sheathed in its scabbard, straight at him. The pommel almost hit him across the nose and he glared at his brother who merely smirked.

"You buckle, I'll fix your hair."

Kíli scuffled with his sword belt, "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, if you _want_ to look as though you just rolled out of bed."

"The ladies like the mussed look, Fee," he protested as his elder brother set upon him with a comb, eyes gleaming with something akin to vengeance.

"Aye well, mother will box your ears, Elves or no." He countered, smiling now as he mercilessly tackled the tangles in his brother's hair.

Several minutes later, and after much cursing, they emerged into the main hall just in time to meet their mother as she came down from her chambers above. Bedecked in bright gold and glimmering with many rubies, the Princess Dís shone like the sun itself.

"Mother," they said in unison, and bowed low.

The Princess Dís sniffed slightly and peered at her two sons critically as they rose. The Princess looked much like her elder brother, the King. With inky hair that had been artfully braided up and away with her beard, she could have been his twin if not for the softer angles of her face and the swell of her bosom. A handsome woman to be sure, but with an air of command that demanded respect.

"Kíli, why do you always look as though a war pig has just dragged you through the mud?" She asked tersely.

"I combed my hair," he said defensively.

"Wrong, _I_ combed your hair," Fíli said, clearly enjoying himself. Kíli elbowed him hard between the ribs, where his armor was weakest, and his brother grunted and swatted at him.

"Tsk," the Princess murmured and pursed her lips in disapproval. They both immediately settled into identical looks of beguiling guilt. Many feared the King's wrath, but _everyone_ feared the fury of his younger sister. "Must you two always act like such children?"

This was obviously a rhetorical question and neither of her sons was foolish enough to answer it. She primly straighten Kíli's cloak, artfully draping the blue and silver brocade across his shoulders and righted the collar of his velvet tunic beneath. Fíli had braided parts of his hair back and worked a few sapphire beads into them and she carefully tightened the ends of each, straightening his circlet gently so it rested evenly on his brow. He kept his beard neat and trim, perhaps shorter than the current fashion but still comely, and then smoothed her hand over his jaw. It was a tender gesture and her eyes softened for a moment, gracing him with a small smile.

When the Princess pulled away her eyes were stern again. "I expect you both to be on your best behavior tonight, do you understand me?"

"Yes mother," they said.

"I mean it Kíli," she warned, "I will not have a repeat of last Durin's day. Dain's daughter wouldn't come out of her chambers for a week."

"What a shame that was- Ow!," Kíli rubbed ruefully at the side of his head where his mother had struck him. Fíli sniggered behind his hand.

"This meeting is very important to your Uncle and I will not have you embarrassing him in front of the Elven King." She commanded, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Who cares what the damned Elves think," Fíli dared, his chest swelling. .

The Princess raised a slim brow at him and her son was quickly cowed. "Your Uncle seeks to open trade again with the Woodland realm, this is important to our people, my son. Sometimes you must cast aside old hatreds for the betterment of all, when you are King, you will understand."

"Of course, mother," Fíli said humbly but Kíli didn't buy it. Forgive the Elves? Ha! Never mind that he wasn't even entirely certain _why_ his people disliked the Elves so much, but that hardly seemed to matter.

"Well, let us not tarry any longer." The Princess said and walked gracefully down the hall, several of her maids scampering forward to follow after at her heels.

"I've never seen an Elf," Kíli confessed to his brother a moment later, as though Fíli hadn't already known – they'd hardly been separated a day of their lives.

"I hear their women are soft and frail, beardless and willowy like saplings in a storm." Fíli whispered conspiratorially as they entered the Great Hall of Erebor. It was crowded with dwarves, all of them eager to get a glimpse of the famous Elven King and his entourage as they arrived. Many stopped to stare at their infamous Princes' bedecked in their finery, however, and whispered excitedly behind their hands as they passed.

Weeks of preparation had gone into the momentous event; old rooms, which had been designed for visiting Elves in times when their peoples had gotten on better, had been cleaned and stocked, many kinds of exotic foods had been rolled in from all corners of Middle-Earth, and every hall, no matter how small, had been scrubbed and polished into sheer splendor. Kíli thought the effect would be entirely wasted on a people who lived in _trees_.

He pulled a face and shook his head, "They sound hideous. Hopefully we will not be required to entertain any of them."

"Perish the thought," his brother replied sincerely and then quieted as they entered the throne room to a flare of bright fanfare.

* * *

"Nephews. Sister," the King said in greeting, his voice faintly sardonic as it echoed through the throne room, but a fond smile tugged at one corner of his stern mouth. Behind him stood his daughter, the Princess Briala, dressed in the deep blue's of their line and looking lovely as a spring morning. It was said she looked much like her mother, though Kíli could only barely recall the deceased Queen's face, she'd died when they were very young.

Fíli and Kíli bowed low at the base of the steps, which led up to the great throne above, and their mother dipped nearly to the floor. A reverent hush had fallen over the hall. It was rare that the entire royal family was together all at once, duty usually keeping one or several of them occupied elsewhere, and there was a sense of deep ceremony at their greeting now. Looking upon his Uncle, Kíli's breast swelled with pride. Here was a true Son of Durin, dark and fierce looking, with piercing eyes and a broad chest, the crown of the King Under the Mountain gleaming upon his brow, bright and true.

The King waved them idly forward but his eyes were warm and he bent to kiss his sister's cheek and braced arms with his nephews. The Princess moved to stand near her cushioned seat, smaller and set slightly to one side of the throne next to her niece, and Fíli took up his place to the right of his Uncle's seat with Kíli stationed slightly away. Thorin took a moment to whisper something to his daughter, who flushed and glanced shyly at an oblivious Fíli, and then took his seat. A moment later the fanfare began at the Gates and carried into the great hall, echoing crisply in the falling night.

Kíli gripped the hilt of his sword, carefully contorting his features into a fierce scowl even as his heart leapt traitorously in his chest. He was eager despite himself. He'd spent nearly all of his life beneath the mountain, never traveling far beyond the confines of their underground kingdom, and he'd long desired to see the world outside. Here, tonight, a breath of fresh air from the lands beyond came to tempt him further. Unlike his brother and despite his lip service to the contrary, a part of him wished to know of Elves and Men and all other manner of creatures beneath the sun and sky.

The hush of the hall deepened as the trumpets quieted and the Elven party began their journey down the long path to the throne. Kíli stifled a cough of disbelief as he saw that King Thranduil wore a crown of _twigs_ wrapped in silver and gold with elegant silk robes that looked suspiciously like a woman's dress. He was fair of hair and face, his blue eyes cold and calculating as they surveyed their surroundings with disinterest, and Kíli sobered a little; the depths of the ages were in those eyes. Beside him walked a slightly shorter elf, similar in appearance and countenance, bearing a slim crown of silver and slightly more muted robes, but he carried himself with no less grace or confidence than his father.

"I thought the King had a _son_ ," he whispered into Fíli's ear and his elder brother stifled a snort against his fist. Their mother shot them a warning glance and they both straightened.

"Not even a hint of a beard," Fíli commented a moment later but Kíli barely heard him, for the Elven King and Prince had reached the throne, bowed, and revealed the most fiercely beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

She (for he was intrinsically sure that it _was_ a she despite the misleading femininity of Elven men) was red of hair and, even from their distance, her eyes all but glowed green, like the finest of emeralds before they'd been cut and shaped. Unlike her King she was dressed not in robes but in fine Elven made armor and mail, a sword at her side with elegant daggers at her back. The sharp curves of her face were pale but perfectly made, like the elegant strokes of a master sculptor. She was much shorter than her King and Prince (though, admittedly, not quite so short as a dwarf), and less willowy. The other members of the guard, there were five in total, were similar in stature and appearance. He'd heard that the Elves varied as many of the Dwarven clans did, but he had not expected the differences to be so notable.

Kíli felt as though he were falling. Something strange and indescribable had shifted inside him, reorienting itself in a manner he didn't understand but it made his stomach flutter.

He blinked back into reality as his Uncle rose and stepped forward, indicating that they should follow behind.

"Welcome, King Thranduil of the Woodland realm, to Erebor," the King Under the Mountain said graciously, his deep voice booming through the hall.

"We are honored to be here, King Thorin," Thranduil replied genially and dipped his head.

"Allow me to present my sister, the Princess Dís and my daughter the Princess Briala," Throin said with a wave of his hand, "and my nephews and heirs, Prince Fíli," his elder brother bowed, "and Prince Kíli." With a breath he dipped his head but found that he could not quite take his eyes off the She-Elf, who, for her part was surveying the hall critically, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. She carried herself like a warrior, strong and proud. His heart was a drum beat in his head.

"My son, the Prince Legolas," the Elf King said casually, as though he were commenting on the weather, and his son bowed. Kíli was desperate to know the She-Elf's name but Thranduil seemed to have no intention of revealing it.

"Please," Throin said, "Allow my people to show you to your rooms so that you might rest from your journey. We hope you will join us for the evening's festivities."

The Elf maiden, likely sensing the weight of his gaze, at last glanced his way and their eyes held for a long moment. A myriad of emotions passed across her face, too quickly for Kíli to settle on any of them, before she looked pointedly away. There was a pale pink tinge to her cheeks now and he couldn't stop the smirk that grew on his face.

"Of course," Thranduil replied and they all bowed _again._ Their Steward, Balin, rushed forward with a party of servants in toe and the Elves followed gracefully after him into an antechamber nearby. Kíli watched, transfixed, as the Elf maiden departed, her long hair swinging and her hips swaying, and thought that maybe, just maybe, she glanced back at him.

* * *

Kíli took a breath and smoothed a hand across his velvet tunic, straightening his belt and adjusting his circlet for the umpteenth time. He'd never felt so strangely nervous in all his life and he wasn't even sure _why_.

Fíli raised a brow at him, "What's gotten into you?"

Kíli felt his cheeks heat and ducked his head, "Nothing."

"You're behaving like a blushing maiden," his brother accused, grinning now as they waited for their Uncle and Mother in the corridor outside the main feast hall. "And you were ready on time. Something is clearly wrong with you. Are you feeling ill?"

He made of show of trying to feel at Kíli's forehead and he swatted his hand away with a scowl. They'd both changed for the feast, wearing similar tunics in deep blue with embroidery of silver and gold, the only real difference being that Fíli had kept his cloak and Kíli had left his behind. Damned things always got in the way while dancing, and Kíli was notorious for his dancing. Prior to this moment he'd fully planned on dancing with every Dwarf maiden in residence, but now there was only one face that swam to mind and it was deeply unsettling.

Fíli opened his mouth to tease his younger brother further but Kíli's salvation came in the form of his cousin, Uncle, and Mother as they descended the stairs. The Princess Briala looked regal and lovely in a light blue gown that twinkled with many silver laced diamonds, her hair was worn loose and gleaming down to her waist and her face was bare save for the long braided edges of her sideburns –a recent fashion and one their mother didn't approve of. He nudged Fíli, smirking in his turn, "Your bride-to-be looks lovely tonight brother, does she not?"

Fíli cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, struck by a sudden and devastating bolt of awkwardness that was entirely out of character.

Now who was the blushing maiden, Kíli thought triumphantly as his brother watched Briala step toward them like a man struck dumb. They'd been all but promised since the moment the Princess had been born and had spent _years_ hating each other, pulling pranks, tormenting one another as often as possible, and generally causing their King to despair. But in the last few years things had changed between them and everyone could see it except for perhaps them. They were more courteous to one another, but also painfully awkward, avoiding eye contact even as they stole glances and generally evaded one another.

Kíli, feeling strangely magnanimous, urged his brother forward. Fíli stumbled then caught his feet and hurried to the Princess's side.

"My Lady," he murmured and, in a rare show of boldness, took her hand and brushed a kiss across it. Briala flamed red right up to the tips of her curved ears but managed a bright smile as he rose and tucked her arm into his. Behind them, the King was near bursting with pleasure and even his mother was smiling.

Kíli might have not existed at all as the group fell in line behind the King, for which he was grateful. He was having something of an existential crisis.

* * *

The She-Elf stood just behind her King, proud, erect, and utterly captivating. She was also completely oblivious to his existence. It took a supreme amount of effort to keep himself from staring at her through the entire meal, and he pushed his food around his plate absently. He was so distracted by her mere presence that he had no sense of the tension at the head table until King Thranduil motioned her to him, whispering something to her in their own fluid tongue. She nodded once and departed.

He watched her walk away, a strange tightness in his chest as her hair glinted in the firelight. As though he'd just woken from some sort of trance, he glanced about him, taking in the hard expressions and strange silence with a confused frown. There was a worried, irritated crease between his Uncle's brow and his mother's lips were tightly pursed. Fíli was staring down at his plate as well, but his gaze often flicked across the table to where the Princess Briala sat, silent and contemplative. He had clearly missed something.

A few tense moments later and another Elf came to stand behind King Thranduil, indicating that perhaps the object of his current _fascination_ (he refused to consider the implications of her being the object of his _affection_ ) and he cleared his throat, quietly excusing himself. Only his mother looked his way as he rose, his Uncle merely waving a dismissive hand.

* * *

Kíli wouldn't have said he was _looking_ for the Elf maiden, precisely, he'd merely felt like taking an extended walk across the battlements… after innocently asking a guard if he'd happened to see a red haired Elf pass this way. Yes, it was entirely coincidental that he'd come upon her at all.

She was standing with her hands braced on the crenels along the parapets above the great Gates of Erebor, her face tilted skyward and her eyes reflecting the silver light of the waning moon with perfect clarity. She looked like a dream, or a vision, too lovely to be real.

"It is impolite the stare, Dwarf," she said coolly, startling him and breaking the spell.

He flushed and cleared his throat, stepping out of the shadows into the light of the low burning brazier.

"It's a- er, nice evening." He commented lamely, realizing belatedly that he hadn't considered what he might even _say_ to her. The entire thing was mad anyway, he knew, but he was completely helpless to explain what had gotten into him. He was merely curious about her culture, he told himself; yes, that was it.

She did not turn toward him as she said, "It is refreshing to be out from beneath the weight of the mountain."

Kíli frowned, "Does being below ground make you uncomfortable?" Standing so near her he determined that the top of his head would likely come to the base of her chin; _not such a terrible height difference_ , his mind supplied traitorously.

"I've spent all my life in the forest with the stars above me, it is strange to spend so much time below ground, absent of their light," she looked to him at last and then flushed prettily, executing a swift bow with her eyes down cast.

"I apologize, your highness, I did not realize to whom I spoke."

Kíli rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck, "Please, don't apologize. I'm curious to hear about my home from the perspective of an outsider." He leaned against the crenels, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to appear at his ease even as his pulse raced and his thoughts scattered.

She met his gaze, eyes searching, "I assure you I meant no disrespect your highness, Erebor is very grand and your people have been very hospitable."

She sounded as though she was reciting a well-rehearsed speech and he chuckled, causing her eyes to narrow. "Please, call me Kíli, and I meant it when I said I was interested in your opinion, your honest one."

She ducked her head and turned back to face away into the night, "It _is_ lovely, just… strange. It's discomfiting to look upward only to find vast caverns and empty darkness rather than stars and sky."

Kíli turned and braced his arms on the wall, watching the fire and moon-light glitter on the placid water of the river below.

"Do the stars mean so much that you feel their absence within only a few hours, my lady?" He asked, his voice faintly teasing. Kíli had never struggled with a talking to a female before but his tongue felt dry and leaden in his mouth.

She pursed her lips, and looked skyward once more, "My people hold all light sacred, but… Woodelves love best the light of the stars."

Strangely touched, he followed her gaze, watching the far off lights twinkle down at them, "It always seemed such a distant, unfeeling light to me."

He caught the shake of her head from the corner of his eyes, "It is the light of memory, of all the ages as they have passed and faded. Sometimes, in the long hours of the night, I walk there, between the veil of this world and the next, where there is only light, precious and pure. " There was a depth and passion within her words that caught him up despite himself, wrapped once again in her strange spell.

"There is a cavern, we call it the Queen's Garden, that is said to mirror the night sky," he blurted out awkwardly, but she turned to him in interest. "With no Queen on the throne few now go there, but it is a wondrous place. The gems and silver above catching the torch light so that the whole chamber glitters and sparkles."

She smiled and her features softened. Suddenly she seemed tangible and real for the first time and his breath caught in his throat. "That sounds lovely, your majesty, I wish I could see it."

"I could take you," he said immediately, strangely but powerfully eager to share with her the wonders of his kingdom. He wanted to take her down to the great forges where the massive fires never died, and then further to the bottomless mines where his people plucked jewels from the earth like fruit from a tree. He would show her the work shops where they made weapons and armor but also where they fashioned their clever mechanical toys and created intricate works of art from stone and metal. He could show her to the grand library, with its sea of leather bound tomes and carefully organized scrolls, then on to the lower levels where the majority of their people lived and where vendors hawked their wares in lively market places that were always filled with song and entertainment.

But her face hardened again and she looked away, "I'm afraid that would not be appropriate, your highness. I am Captain of the Royal Guard, my duties would not allow it."

"Of course," he said, feeling foolish and disappointed all at once.

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable, "I should return, I wish you a pleasant evening, your highness."

He swept her a courtly bow, "And I wish you a pleasant evening as well, my lady, I hope we might have the chance to speak again soon."

She blushed and started away. After only a few steps, she hesitated and turned slightly around. "My name is Tauriel," she said softly, "As opposed to 'my lady.'" She gave him tentative, but warm smile that shot warmth straight through his chest like an arrow.

And then she was gone before he could think of anything at all to say.

"Tauriel," he murmured to himself and looked to the stars as if seeing them for the first time.

* * *

It was two days before Kíli saw her again.

They'd been caught in a long tedious meeting for nearly all the morning and Kíli's attention wandered often. Wandering, of course, toward one person in particular. She stood, as always, directly behind her King, just down the table from him. Balin droned on and on as a dark haired elf carefully recorded everything he said. Something about barrels, but Kíli was beyond listening, and even Fíli looked as though he were bored out of his mind.

He leaned back in his chair and caught Tauriel's eye, and smiled at her. She flushed again and might have looked away except that he began to do his famous impression of Balin, mimicking his hand movements and facial expressions perfectly. She surprised him with a helpless chuckle which she quickly attempted to disguise as a cough but Balin, used to his antics, shot him a knowing look. Kíli folded his hands primly before him and attempted to look deeply interested in what the old dwarf was saying. Balin narrowed his eyes warningly before continuing with whatever he had been speaking about. Kili glanced at Tauriel a moment later and saw that a smile still played at her lips.

* * *

He was on his way to the bathhouse when he caught sight of her just below the upper caverns. She was surrounded by dwarflings, whose small voices rose and crested through the long hall with excitement. As he watched she bent to them with a glowing smile as they traced her pointed ears and ran curious fingers across her bare face. One of the older girls said something and Tauriel laughed brightly in surprised amusement. The sound was like clear bells on a crisp winter morning and it nearly struck him dumb.

Feeling his gaze, she glanced upward and caught it, holding him captive. Her smile faded and something deep and full of promise passed through her eyes. He held her stare for a moment longer before turning, fleeing from her and everything she'd mysteriously woken within him. He felt very much like a coward.

* * *

Dwalin trapped him just after breakfast the next day and Kíli groaned miserably.

"None of that lad, you've skipped out on training exercises for nearly a week," the gruff military commander told him, glowering as Kíli looked sheepish.

"But Dwalin-"

"No, no arguments get your gear and then get your arse to the training yard or I'll be having a word with your mother."

Kíli swallowed and hurried off, grumbling about sadistic task masters and interfering mothers.

An hour later and he was patiently stringing his bow. It was late in the morning and most of their warriors had moved on to other responsibilities, leaving the training yard, the archery range in particular, nearly deserted. He swung his arms a few times to loosen his muscles, then took to his practice. Despite his complaining, he'd always enjoyed working with his bow –making him something of an oddity among his people who typically only resorted to archery when hunting. He enjoyed sword work, certainly, but there was something deeply… _relaxing_ about pulling back the taunt string, feeling the muscles across his chest and back stretching, then taking aim and letting his arrow fly.

He nocked an arrow, aimed, then breathed once, twice, and released on the third exhale. He smiled as the bolt struck dead center. He reached for another arrow.

"Impressive," a voice said and he jumped, toppling the standing arrow quiver and nearly falling flat on his face.

He turned to find Tauriel laughing at him quietly from behind her hand. Kíli blushed furiously and bowed awkwardly, "Ah, good morning my lady, I didn't see you there…"

She cleared her throat and bowed in her turn, "I apologize your highness, I didn't mean to startle you." Something in her eyes told him otherwise, their depths twinkling with amusement. His own eyes took in her plain, loose clothing and then fell to the bow in her hands.

"Come to practice as well?"

She nodded, "Indeed, if you do not mind the company of an Elf."

"No, of course not," he said too quickly and a perhaps a mite too loudly, blushing _again_ as she smiled a little too knowingly.

She paced to the quiver stand on his left and placed her arrows, of fine Elven make, within.

"May I?" He asked, indicating the arrow in her hand, she raised a brow but handed the shaft over. He studied it with interest, having made his own arrows since he was old enough to draw a bow, and whistled.

"These are of very fine quality," he let the arrow balance along one finger, "Perfectly weighted and the arrow head is of an interesting design."

He glanced up to find her smiling again, but this time with pride and excitement, "Thank you, I made them myself."

Impressed further, he made to hand the arrow back to her and their fingers brushed, sending a wave of fire through his veins. He swallowed heavily and noted with a primal sort of satisfaction that her breath caught before she turned away.

He watched with keen interest as she drew her bow and fired with a quickness that was startling, her arrow flying straight and true to mark the center of the target. Her technique was elegant and differed slightly from his. She used three fingers to draw, pulling back to level at her eye, where as he preferred to use only two fingers and anchored at his chin.

"Impressive," he echoed, taking up his own bow.

They practiced in silence for a time, the only sound the twang of their bow strings and thump of their arrows finding their marks.

"I did not know dwarves used bows so… effectively," she commented when it was time to retrieve their marks.

Kíli shrugged a bit, though he was very flattered, and he began yanking his arrows free, "I'm something of an anomaly, dwarves usually prefer to get up close and nasty, hitting things with axes and clubs. Archery is a little wasted on us, but I've always enjoyed it."

"You're quite good," she admitted and her tone was somewhat begrudging. He shot her a smile and chuckled.

"That is a high complement coming from you, my lady," he said, pulling the last of his arrows free.

She shook her head, embarrassed, "Please, call me Tauriel."

"Only if you call me Kíli," he countered and she gave him an incredulous look. He sighed. "Well, at least in private. You know, like this," he waved a hand, indicating their utter solitude.

"Very well, your- Kíli," she said awkwardly as they headed back to their spots across the field. For his part, he tried to ignore the way his heart sang. It was as though he'd never truly heard another person speak his name until she had, though he couldn't begin to understand what that might mean.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, "Care for a little bit of friendly competition?"

She looked at him, a sly smirk creeping across her face, "Don't think because you're a Prince that I'll let you win."

He winked at her, "So long as you don't think I'll let you win because you're a lady and a guest of the royal house."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She won, of course.


	2. In Which Kili Proves the Stubborness of Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is madness," she whispered, turning toward him with all her fears and hopes burning through her eyes.
> 
> "Yes," he agreed as he braced his forehead to hers. He kissed her slowly, carefully, then he showed her how to braid their secret promise into his own hair, telling himself it would all work out in the end.
> 
> It had to. Because he was no longer certain he could live without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Such wonderful feed back for this fic! This little corner of the fandom is so lovely, long may the Kiliel ship sail in the deep seas of denial. :) Well, there is only one more part after this I'm afraid. I've only got enough time (and motivation) at the moment for one lengthy fic at a time, but I'm trying to do this prompt justice. Reviews are wonderful and so are you. Hope you enjoy this Irrel, I know I promised you a happy ending, so have faith!

They met every morning at the archery range over the course of the next two weeks. A silent agreement that Kíli wasn't about to argue with. As they trained (with less and less seriousness each day) he told Tauriel of his childhood. His years spent running amok within the cavernous city, admitting to her all his most embarrassing incidents if only to see her smile and to hear her laugh. She told him of her home, of the lovely dwellings built among the branches and the music that always wafted through their ancient halls. She admitted that she'd often felt lonely there, a little apart for reasons she couldn't understand, and how she had longed to see the rest of the world even as it grew further and further away from her.

He learned that she had a very healthy sense of humor and her wit was easily a match for his. He made a fool of himself, trying to show off in any way he could think, but she only smiled and shook her head, eyes alive and sparkling. She asked after the braids in his hair and he explained what each one was meant to represent, all the while trying not to think of the secret meanings he'd like to weave into hers. She taught him phrases in Sindarin and explained the subtle differences between Silvan and Sindar Elves while he told her of things he shouldn't, things that would cause his Uncle to go blue in the face. And every day he felt the cultural and racial differences between them fade away until it was as though they had never existed at all.

In a few short days she knew him better than anyone save his brother. He confessed his own difficulty in finding his place in the world and how he was sure he was constantly letting everyone down. She told him stories of brave heroes and talked of times before he'd even been a thought in his mother's mind, when things had been a little brighter and the horizon a little less shadowed.

"Our Kingdom shrinks a little more each decade," she said quietly as they sat, resting briefly on a low stone bench with their bows at their sides. "The darkness in our forest grows more each day, but rather than combat it we cower and flee." Her voice had taken on a heavy, bitter quality, eyes flashing.

Kíli frowned, letting his head fall back, "My great-grandfather and grandfather died a few years before I was born, attempting to retake Khazad-dûm, and then the Queen when I was just a dwarfling. Because of it, or perhaps in spite of it, my Uncle sees little these days beyond our Lonely Mountain, though there are whispers of an enemy stirring to the North. We sit among our jewels and stone caves rarely looking outside."

"Perhaps our people have more in common than they realize," she said, and he chuckled darkly. "We've both gotten quite good at forgetting that we too have a place in this world."

Their eyes met, and a deep, pervasive understanding passed between them. He knew she had to be much older than he, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, but time did not exist, or maybe it simply no longer mattered. There was only light, as precious and pure as her stars.

"What good are any of us if we let evil dwell and grow, unchallenged, unchecked?" She asked, impassioned, an old pain clouding her gaze before she looked away. "What good is there in this world if we do not seek to change things, to make them better?"

"Tauriel-" He began, but she shook her head and gave him a soft smile that tugged at his heart. There was a strange sadness about her, a sense of one who had lost much and he longed to reach out and take her hand between his. He might have if she hadn't rose gracefully to her feet, gathering herself between one breath and the next.

"Come, best two out of three?" She challenged, her eyes pleading him to leave the subject behind.

"You're on," he said, though he would have preferred to talk the day away with her, listening the cadence of her voice and learning each and every one of her expressions.

* * *

"I was thinking, Uncle," Kíli said casually over breakfast the next day, "that maybe I could take some of the Elves on a tour of the markets." It was just the two of them in the private dining room of the royal family. He'd carefully ensured that his brother and mother were gone before speaking, lingering over his meal as one by one all the chairs had emptied. Thorin looked up from a lengthy report, clearly surprised he was still there.

"What now?" He asked, already apprehensive.

Kíli cleared his throat and attempted to look casual and unaffected, "Oh well, I was just thinking that it might be uh, informative, if we gave the Elves a bit of tour, let them see how dwarves really live."

Thorin raised one brow skeptically, "You honestly believe King Thranduil would be interested in seeing the lower levels of the city? I'm not entirely sure he would appreciate the mud wrestling and pig races, Kíli."

"Alright, perhaps the King might not be interested, but some of the others might and I thought the idea was to well, you know," he waved a hand awkwardly, "strengthen ties and share cultures."

There was a pregnant pause as his Uncle's eyes narrowed, "Correct me if I'm wrong, nephew, but are you volunteering to take a group of Elves on a _cultural_ tour of Erebor."

He could feel heat clawing its way up his neck and he shrugged his shoulders a little, "Um, I guess? I mean yes, yes I am."

Thorin set his report carefully aside and leaned forward, tenting his fingers before him as his eyes bored into Kíli's. It took a supreme amount of effort not to fidget.

"This is a good idea," Thorin said reluctantly as though he could hardly believe the words he was speaking. "I will have Balin arrange things."

Kíli smiled with relief, "Thank you Uncle-"

"I expect you to lead this tour Kíli, no ducking out last minute."

Kíli shook his head and rose from his seat, hoping his excitement wasn't written all across his face, "Of course not, wouldn't even dream of it."

Thorin still looked suspicious as Kíli bowed and turned to leave, eager to tell Tauriel of his plan and hoping she would agree to go.

"And Kíli," his Uncle called and he turned at the door, "I'm pleased to see you taking a keener interest in politics. I know they are tedious, but someday, when your brother is King, he will need your help."

Kíli bit his lip, guilt curling briefly in his stomach, "Thank you Uncle, I will do my best."

* * *

"Is it always so _loud_?" Prince Legolas complained mildly, cringing slightly as the horn player hit a particularly high note. The Elven Prince seemed as reluctant to be involved with their little tour as Kíli was to have him there.

"I think they're showing off for you actually, your highness," Kíli said cheerfully.

They were in the Sapphire District, one of his favorite places to frequent with his brother when they could slip away. It had the best taverns, food, music… and yes, women. But he was currently more interested in one woman in particular, and in showing her all that dwarven culture had to offer.

"Perhaps we should move along," Balin suggested awkwardly –poor dwarf looked as though he'd aged thirty years in just three weeks- and motioned them away from the lively gathering at the center of one of the larger courtyards.

Kíli glanced at Tauriel, dressed in her armor with her hand on her sword, and was pleased to see she was smiling as she took in the sights. The courtyard was teeming with dwarves, all of them eager and exited to have their Prince among them with such notable strangers in tow. His people had embraced the opportunity to showcase their culture with a determination he hadn't anticipated. Everywhere he looked there were carts laden with swords, silks, toys and clever little mechanical machines. Jugglers, fiddlers, flame eaters and tricksters lingered at every corner, luring thick crowds around them. Apparently their hatred for Elves was tempered only by their desire to impress them.

As Balin attempted to explain to Legolas the significance of certain types of architecture, Kíli slipped in alongside Tauriel.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, smirking.

She grinned down at him, eyes dancing, "It's certainly a lively place. What were they singing about?"

He shrugged, "Just an old mining song, a lot about swinging pick axes and the sky raining gems. Maybe a bit about beards and cutting the heads off Orcs and dancing on their corpses..."

"How very dwarvish," she teased.

"You mean it's deeply symbolic and philosophical?"

"Of course," she agreed deadpan for a moment before they both laughed.

Balin drew the Elf Prince to a large cart, which sported a variety of fine dwarven made swords and the Prince actually appeared faintly interested for the first time that afternoon. Confident Legolas was distracted, Kíli urged Tauriel to another stall nearby.

"They're beautiful," Tauriel breathed, running her fingers over a fine silver and emerald hair bobble.

"You'll not find any finer in all of Erebor, my lady," the stall keeper said proudly, puffing out his chest and stroking his long silvery beard.

"The work is so fine," she murmured, touching a particularly impressive piece that had been carved into the shape of a fire breathing dragon, each of its scales perfectly detailed and its ruby eyes catching the light so that they seemed truly aflame. "It seems _alive_."

Kíli, feeling strangely foolish, lifted up a simple necklace made of fine threads of mithril which dripped with tiny emeralds that were the exact color of her eyes. He'd never given jewelry much thought but the piece seemed made for her. Looking at it made his stomach flutter in the oddest way. He was beginning to understand why he'd occasionally caught Fíli mooning over fine bits of cloth and trinkets when he thought no one was looking.

"The chains are so thin, like spider's silk," Tauriel said softy, glancing over his shoulder, her tone faintly covetous.

"A gift," the cart keeper said with a slight bow, "For the lovely lady."

Tauriel jerked back and shook her head fervently, "Oh, I couldn't possibly."

The shop-keep opened him mouth to insist further, but Balin called for their attention and, looking equal parts wistful and relieved, she hurried to Legolas's side.

Kíli looked down at the jewelry in his hands and then fished out a handful of coins, aware it was probably too much and not caring in the least.

"Wrap this up for me, would you?"

"Certainly, your highness," the stall-keep said, his voice carefully neutral but his eyes knowing.

* * *

The tavern was near bursting at the seams and Prince Legolas was clearly close to refusing to enter within, but Kíli watched as the Elf glanced at his Guard Captain's eager face and his crumpled slightly in defeat. Suddenly Kíli got the strange sense that there was more than mere professional courtesy between them, specifically on the Prince's part. Kíli swallowed against a sudden and irrational anger, forcing a pleasant smile that skittered around his teeth.

"First round is on me!" He called with a wink and Balin rolled his eyes helplessly. Thorin had said the tour was his responsibility and what sort of host would he be if he didn't treat their distinguished guests to all the wonders his people had to offer? Specifically their ale.

Clutching four frothing mugs between his fingers, he shoved one at each member of their party and then held his aloft.

"To forging new friendships and new alliances," he said brightly. His gaze held Tauriel's pointedly as she raised her mug and took a hesitant sip, her cheeks flushing slightly as an unspoken understanding lingered in the air. Kíli didn't miss the way the Prince's eyes narrowed perceptively as they flickered back and forth between them. Kili couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at the corners of his lips a moment before he took a long swallow of the sweet, warm brew.

"Prince Kíli!" A familiar voice called and Orí burst from the crowd, looking bright and eager until he took in the two Elves as they towered over everyone else. He wasn't sure how the other dwarf had missed them, but Orí wasn't known for being particularly observant. Too much time with his nose buried in dusty tomes.

"Oh ah," he cut an awkward bow, "Your highness, my, er, lady."

Kíli tugged the dwarf into a rough side-armed hug and said, "Cousin Orí, I present to you Prince Legolas of the Woodland realm and the Lady Tauriel, Captain of the Royal Guard."

"A-A pleasure," Orí stammered, his face a bright flaming red.

Legolas gave a faint nod, sniffing sourly at his ale, and Tauriel bowed, smiling kindly. "A pleasure Lord Orí," she said, sending the dwarf into a fit of blushes and smiles, obviously rather smitten with her.

"How goes your work at the Library?" Kíli asked the other dwarf sympathetically.

"O-Oh, very well, yes, very well indeed. But Norí and I were hoping you'd be willing to play us a tune, seems the tavern's fiddler has skipped out."

It was Kíli's turn to flush, "Oh, I uh, I don't know about that Orí, you see I'm supposed to showing Prince Legolas about and-"

"Please," the Prince in question said, his eyes glinting maliciously, "I would be delighted to hear you play, your highness."

Kíli fought down a glare, reading the silent dare in the other Prince's eyes, and determinedly set himself to the task.

"Alright Orí," he said firmly, "I'm assuming you've got a fiddle handy?" He shoved his ale at Balin, who looked ready to go into conniptions, and followed after his eager cousin.

A moment later, with fiddle in hand, he leapt up onto the center table to a roar of cheers. Kíli swept a flamboyant bow to the room, shot a saucy wink at Tauriel - relishing in the furious look in Legolas's eyes- and cried, "Sing along if you know it lads and lasses!"

He began stamping his foot to set the rhythm, which was taken up immediately and eagerly by the tavern patrons, and then he set bow to fiddle and began a lively, difficult tune. It took only a few vibrant bars before the building shook with raised dwarven voices as they sang the song in the common tongue. All the while Kíli held Tauriel's eyes, drinking in her smile and the warmth in her gaze as she clapped along, and it may as well have been just the two of them for he was playing just for her and she had eyes only for him.

* * *

He caught her in the halls the following afternoon on his way to meet with his brother and Uncle. She looked distressed.

"Tauriel," he blurted, concerned. "What is it, are you well?"

She started, obviously surprised by his presence and schooled her features into a careful, cold mask, the likes of which he had not seen since their first meeting on the battlements.

"Fine, your majesty." She said crisply, avoiding his gaze and he frowned, sensing that something was very wrong.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can help you with-"

"Tauriel," came a stern voice and he turned to find the Prince Legolas staring at him with naked disapproval in his eyes.

"Pardon me, my lord," she said and swept past her Prince and down the hall without a backward glance at either of them.

The Prince held Kíli's gaze for a long moment, his eyes challenging and foreboding as a wordless warning passed between them. Kíli's eyes narrowed, unflinching though his heart trembled with trepidation. The Prince left him a moment later without another word as a lump formed in Kíli's throat.

* * *

Tauriel avoided him after that. She did not come to the training grounds and would not look at him when circumstances put them in the same room. The Prince Legolas looked smug and Kíli had to fight the urge to knock the smirk off his pretty face. Whatever had happened, he had no doubt that the Elven Prince was responsible.

As the days passed, her avoidance made him increasingly surlier and more agitated while in company.

"What has gotten into you," Fíli demanded one morning over breakfast when he'd snapped at a severing maiden for dropping his fork.

Kíli scowled and looked away, "Nothing."

Fíli glared in turn, "You've been acting like an angry sow for the past three days, what is it? Dwalin been after you again-"

"Leave it be, Fee," he said bitingly and rose from his seat, suddenly not the least bit hungry.

Fíli caught his arm and forced Kíli to turn and meet his eyes, "If this is about that She-Elf, let it go Kee. I know you haven't noticed, but negations have been tense, the last thing we need is-

Kíli flinched away from him as though burned and yanked his arm furiously from his grasp, "I said leave it be Fíli. It's none of your damned business."

Fíli's face tightened as hurt clouded his expression but Kíli turned away and stomped out of the suddenly silent room. He needed to clear his head.

As fate would have it, Tauriel was walking the battlements again. Her face was turned to the late autumn wind, her eyes closed as her long hair fluttered behind her like a banner. His stomach fluttered and his heart did a mad little flip as it always did when he looked on her, but Kíli gathered his courage. Squaring his shoulders, he approached her, intent on getting some answers.

"You're avoiding me," he said and she whirled in surprised and then turned away again when she saw that it was him.

"Of course not, I am very busy-"

"Mahal's arse, you won't even look at me." He challenged, his fists balling at his sides. He knew he was behaving poorly but her avoidance and the Elven Prince's mockery had stirred something strangely akin to jealousy within him.

She shot him a glare, "And why should I look at you? What am I to you but a lowly elf in the service of my King-"

"Lowly?" He cut her off, stunned. "How could you possibly think yourself _lowly_."

Her scowl deepened and she paced away. "Do not mock me," she spat, her voice quivering with barley contained fury.

Kíli stomped after her, his recklessness getting the best of him as he darted forward to cut off her escape. He was shocked to find tears swimming in her eyes.

"Forgive me, Tauriel, I did not mean to upset you," he said, much of his anger leaving him, and reached for her hand without thinking, his fingers closing around hers. It was like someone had struck a spark between them and the flames that had merely flickered before roared to life. A deep shudder racked through her and into him as her pupils dilated tellingly.

"How could you possibly believe yourself to be lower than me, or anyone else?" He asked softly and in earnest, unconsciously stepping closer to her.

She took a trembling breath, "This is insane, Kíli. What's between us…."

He chuckled and pulled a watery smile from her, "Well, you know what they say about dwarves. They're completely stubborn and lack the most basic forms of common sense."

She raised a quivering brow at him, "Is that what they say?"

He shrugged, brushing his thumbs over her palms, "Well, perhaps they only say it about one dwarf in particular."

She grinned a little and this time it reached her eyes and he could feel the tension leaking out of her, "I wonder who that could be."

He hummed in the back of his throat and took another step toward her, guiding her to a secluded crevice that was shadowed by the mountain above. "You know, I haven't the faintest."

"Kíli," she murmured, fear, longing and uncertainty warring in her eyes and he reached up to cup her cheek, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. She closed her eyes and, with a shuddering sigh, pressed her face into his palm.

"My mother says I'm reckless," he admitted at a murmur, stepping closer to her still and catching her scent on the breeze- something sweet and herbal with an undercurrent of leather that coiled tightly in his groin.

Her eyes remained closed as she said, "And are you?"

He threaded his fingers into her hair, relishing in the softness of it, and angled her face down toward his. "Nah," he whispered a moment before he pressed up a bit on his toes and caught her lips in his, swallowing her startled gasp.

He'd kissed more than a few maids in his life -and a little more besides- but this was nothing like those foolish and hasty conquests. His blood sang in his ears and the world melted away. It was as though he hadn't truly existed until this moment, which might have been terrifying if it hadn't felt so wonderful. It was like being born again.

She was hesitant and sweet and unsure as he molded his mouth to hers. But her hands reached, finding his face and hair, running over his beard as if fascinated by the texture as he gently probed at her lips with his tongue. She trembled and parted them as he delved inside, claiming her in an instant as his fingers swept upward to caress her ears, drawing a soft squeak from the back of her throat that pulled an answering growl from his chest.

It was she who pulled away first bracing her forehead against his as their breathing slowed. "We shouldn't," she whispered unconvincingly.

"We should," he countered, and kissed her again.

* * *

"I can't stay long," she whispered as the sun set golden in the sky, softening her features and sparkling in her eyes. He reached out and followed a strand of her hair over the slope of her neck and across her collar bone, enjoying the way his touch made her tremble. It was just after the evening meal and they'd only barely managed to slip away unnoticed.

"I know," he murmured and then bent forward to retrace the path his hand had started with his mouth. She whimpered softly in response and her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently. Sure that she was properly distracted, he slipped the necklace up and around her throat and clasped it quickly at her nape before she could react. He'd been practicing the movement in his room alone at night for days; not that he would _ever_ admit that to anyone.

He pulled back, pleased with himself, and she touched the fine threads with wide eyes. "Kíli I can't-"

"It's a gift," he said smiling and feeling like a blushing lad barely into his thirties.

She shook her head and made to take it off, "It is too fine a present-"

He gently drew her hands down and kissed along the knuckles of each one, "There is no gift fine enough."

Her mouth quirked ruefully as she said, "There's nothing I can say that will make you take it back, is there?"

He grinned broadly as he let his fingers trail across the ultra-fine strands and the warm, incredibly soft skin beneath, dangerously close to the tantalizing swell of her breasts above the cut of her tunic.

"Not a single thing."

"Stubborn Dwarf," she accused even as her head tilted down toward his and her fingers skimmed along his jaw.

"Headstrong Elf," he countered as he drew her lower lip slowly between his, teeth nipping gently, and eagerly devoured her responding moan.

* * *

"They died when I was very young," she whispered after a long silence, as the torch light flickered low, casting long, strange shadows down the little used corridor. Years of eluding his responsibilities had left Kíli with plenty of locations to whisk her away to.

He took her hand wordlessly in his and held it, his heart aching for her.

"How?" He encouraged, sensing that, despite her reluctance, it was something she wanted to tell him.

She took a deep breath, ducking her head so that her hair swung forward to shield her expression, "An Orc party, as they returned from a hunting trip."

He swallowed heavily and held her hand tightly.

"I- well, I barely remember them now, but I… lost something that day," she continued on, raising her head at last so that he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. "I nearly faded away, it was the King who pulled me back, who took me in, who gave me a new sort of life." Her voice had taken on a bitter quality and she shook her head.

"He crafted me into a weapon, a sword to be pointed in whatever direction he saw fit. And for a long, long while I forgot what it felt like to… _feel_ anything. I convinced myself that I didn't need to, that compassion and kindness were weaknesses only to be exploited."

She turned to him and gave him a sad smile that blossomed into one of fond gratitude, "You've reminded me of what I lost that day, so long ago. What it means to have passion and joy, and... whatever happens between us Kíli, I will be forever grateful to you for that."

"Tauriel," he breathed and swept away the single tear that had slipped from beneath her lashes. "You've given me direction, purpose, I have never felt anything like this before. I-you're-"

"Shh," she murmured and set her finger lightly to his lips, her eyes fathomless and sad. "This is enough. It may be all we ever have."

He pulled her head downward with a low growl and placed a hard kiss to her forehead, "I swear it will not be," he whispered vehemently against her skin, branding her with his promise. "I swear it."

* * *

"Will they not see it?" Tauriel asked, her voice soft and her tone difficult to read. He couldn't see her face, what with her back turned to him, but he suspected she was frowning. He ran a soothing hand down her arm and placed a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of her neck, eliciting a soft sigh as some of the tension leaked out of her.

"You have so much hair," he said in half answer and half loving observation. "I'll make it small and you can weave it back with the rest of your hair," he reasoned, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Since the moment he'd met her everything seemed to have become a blur, the world and events within it racing past him as they caught him up, pushing him helplessly along.

Mahal help him he wanted her so badly it was a physical pain. He wanted to slowly remove the layers of her clothing just as much as he wanted to remove the layers of her heart, until they were both left naked and bared to one another with nothing but light and song between them. He wanted to capture her laugh and keep it with him always. He wanted to see her smile anxiously every day of his life and watch her flush with embarrassment even as she teased him until the day he died. He wanted to take her hand in his and never let it go.

"If you're certain…" she muttered, fear coloring her voice.

"I am," he said firmly, swallowing against the knowledge of what his words meant, what they carried, and the impossible promise they made.

With hands that shook slightly, he carefully weaved the braid near the base of her neck; smaller than was traditional but it was the pattern that was important –another thing he'd practiced alone in his room for days. In utter silence, he tied it off with a simple silver wire and felt a twinge that he could not decorate it with a fine jewel like she deserved. _Someday, someday_ , he told himself.

"There," he croaked, sudden and powerful emotion clogging his throat and he let the braid slip through his fingers to blend with the rest of the fiery mass, "It is done."

"This is madness," she whispered, turning toward him with all her fears and hopes burning through her eyes.

"Yes," he agreed as he braced his forehead to hers. He kissed her  slowly, carefully, then he showed her how to braid their secret promise into his own hair, telling himself it would all work out in the end.

It had to. Because he was no longer certain he could live without her.


	3. In Which Kili Makes His Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel leaned forward, the hall utterly silent as she kissed his brow and whispered her love for him against his skin. Then she was gone, following her Prince down the hall at a fast walk, her shoulders slumped in defeat. King Thranduil paused briefly, glancing back at him as something curious and contemplative lingered in his eyes, before he too swept away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Liiiiiiiisten. So I skipped over a lot of serious and difficult implications between this couple because, as stated, this was meant to be a pretty short ficlet (17,000 words later...). I wanted to make this relatively light, sweet, and happy –if you're looking for something that goes a little more (okay, maybe alottle more) in depth, check out my fic 'The Heir Apparent'. That said, it was such a joy to write this and I am so glad everyone seemed to enjoy it so much! You're all so lovely. Catch you on the flip side, dudes.
> 
> (And this chapter, as well as those before it, are dedicated to the lovely Irrel.)

Several days later -with Kíli still floating at least a foot off the ground- came the farewell celebration for the Elves as they made to depart back to their homeland. It might have dampened his spirits if he wasn't so sure that Tauriel would stay behind. They were promised, after all.

He dressed carefully and more meticulously than he ever had in his life, spending far more time than he ever would have admitted to anyone trying to find the perfect ensemble and feeling woefully inadequate. Fíli found him straightening his tunic in the looking glass .Kíli caught his gaze in the muted reflection, and his older brother's eyes were wary and deeply troubled. Guilt washed over him as he remembered the scene over breakfast with shame.

"Kíli we need to talk…"

"I'm sorry brother," Kíli interrupted, walking toward him and clasping his arm in his. "I should not have spoken to you as I did. Do you forgive me?"

Fíli hesitated before smiling slightly, "Of course, but that's not why I came."

Kíli nodded and Fíli motioned toward the chairs near his hearth. They had to clear away some of the mess –including a number of daggers, arrows, dirty tunics and crumbled scrolls- but they managed.

"Listen, Kee, we have to talk about, well about whatever is going on with you and the Elf maiden."

Kíli fought down a wave of irritation, "There's nothing to talk about-"

"Would you just _listen_ for once Kíli," his brother snapped, "Uncle is suspicious and becoming angry."

Kíli scowled at his boots, "So? Let him be angry."

Fíli sighed in exasperation, "You must end this dalliance Kíli, it is straining the peace talks-"

"It's not a dalliance," he murmured, stunning his brother into silence. "I-" he faltered, his hands trembling and he clenched at his trousers to still them. "I think, well I may be in love with her. No, I _am_ in love with her."

Fíli groaned loudly and flopped backward into his chair, "You can't be serious Kíli. Of all the stupid, idiotic things you've ever done-"

"Hey!" Kíli protested, but his brother ignored him.

"Uncle will never agree to it Kíli. _Never_."

Anger boiled inside him and he rose to pace away from him, "I don't care whether he agrees or not-"

"Kíli she's an E _lf_ , they're immortal, they never die-"

"I know what immortal means Fee," he growled, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Fíli scowled and stomped over to him, taking him by each shoulder and forcing him to meet him eye to eye. "And what happens when you die someday and leave her behind? Hm? What happens then? You leave her bereft of her people and ours? Would you doom her to that fate?"

Kíli drew in a harsh breath and shook his head stubbornly, "You don't know that. You don't know how we feel about one another-:"

"Do _you_?" He demanded, shaking him slightly and Kíli shoved him angrily away.

"She makes me feel alive, Fíli!" He bellowed, "Before she came to Erebor everyday blended into the last, I had no purpose, no goals, no drive to do or be anything but my elder brother's lesser shadow," Fíli flinched at this, but he didn't falter. "I didn't ask to feel as I do, but I will not turn my back on it. We deserve the chance to shape our own destinies."

Fíli sighed and ran a shaking hand over his beard, "You are my brother, I want only for your happiness, but this- this is wrong Kíli, surely you know that."

Kíli considered his next words carefully for a moment, pondering what his brother had said. There was truth to his words, but the truth of his heart was louder.

"If love is wrong, Fee, then what do we have left? If we are forced to forsake our hearts then what good are any of us?"

Fíli deflated, his gaze terrible and conflicted before he drew his brother in for a rough hug. "Please see reason, Uncle will banish you, our people will scorn you. Do not do this brother."

Kíli sighed, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden pain in his heart as he patted sadly at his brother's back, "I know how I feel about her Fee and I am not afraid. I am sorry brother, but it is already too late."

* * *

Avia caught him almost as soon as he entered the grand ballroom and it took everything in him not to groan aloud. Chieftain Dain's daughter was a large woman with a face that gave the impression that she'd just eaten something sour, with a personality to match.

"It's lovely to see you again, cousin," Kíli said between clenched teeth, wishing desperately to escape. Fíli might have saved him, but Briala had claimed his attention almost immediately and there was no hope of gaining it back now. Avia was the very last person he wanted to deal with tonight. He'd hoped Dain wouldn't have been able to make it up from the Iron Hills, a fruitless hope, apparently. Everyone knew that the Chieftain's daughter had been after him for years, constantly urging her father to force a match between them. Fortunately Thorin seemed as wary of Avia as he was, but he knew there were many who thought the match a good one.

Avia simpered and batted her eye lashes at him like some sort of deranged deer. "The pleasure is all mine, my Prince," she said huskily and rested a hand possessively on his arm. It took all his self control not to shrug out of it.

"Shall we dance, my lord?" She asked coyly as the music started up, and her hand pressed him toward the open floor where his brother and Briala were already whirling and smiling.

He was saved by blaring trumpets as the Elven party entered the ballroom. Kíli's eyes fell immediately upon blazing hair and vibrant green eyes like a moth to the flame. He felt as though the wind had been knocked from his lungs. She was always beautiful, even in her worn, mussed training gear with her hair wild, but tonight she looked as lovely as the moon itself, outshining even the Arkenstone. Soft layers of light green silk and gauze flowed from pale, partially bared shoulders, forming to waist and hip and fluttering gracefully over slippered feet. Her hair hung loose and curling to her waist; devoid of braid or artifice, and the necklace he'd given her sparkled against her elegant throat.

In that moment Kíli knew he was lost. He knew that, as her eyes searched and found his, he would give up his station, all his many privileges, and his very home to be with her. If she asked it of him, he would travel to the very ends of Middle-Earth and beyond if only she would have him.

He was halfway across the room before he realized what was happening, vaguely aware of Avia's angry mutterings, and caring not at all.

"My Lords," he said, cutting a swift bow. King Thranduil inclined his head, looking faintly amused, while his son merely glared. Kíli ignored him.

He turned to Tauriel, finding it hard to breathe once again. She was even more beautiful up close, her skin and smile radiant, as though she were composed of nothing but light and beauty. He smiled and she smiled in turn and suddenly they were just _them_ again. He took her hand in his and brushed a brief kiss across her knuckles, her answering tremble echoing through him and settling warm and expectant in his belly.

"My lady," he murmured against her skin.

She curtsied, her eyes fluttering shyly away, "Your highness."

The music started and, though the Elven Prince seemed fit to skewer him where he stood and his Uncle was likely glaring daggers from across the hall, he couldn't have possibly cared less. They'd agreed they needed to be careful, secretive, but in that moment he wanted the entire world to know she was his and he hers.

"May I have this dance?" His tone was almost challenging. _Is this what you want?_ It asked. _Are you brave enough to take these steps with me?_

Her eyes searched his, finding his unspoken question and swallowing heavily. "I would be honored," she said.

Though she was taller, they fit well together. Her hand found his shoulder as his slipped to her waist, fingers reflexively clenching against the seductive warmth of her through the thin cloth. Their free hands clasped and he felt whole again. He'd told Fíli she made him feel alive, but it was more than _life_ he felt. She made him feel eternal, invincible, like he could do anything.

The tune was slow, simple, but he could tell by the way her fingers dug into his shoulder through his tunic that she did not know the steps. He smiled at her encouragingly, his heart racing wildly in his chest.

"Don't worry," he said softly, "Just follow my lead."

She nodded and wet her lip nervously as he guided her into the first movements of the song. Tauriel might not have known the steps, but her natural grace more than compensated for her lack of experience. She was like a living flame in his arms as she spun away and then back again like the sun orbiting around the world with he as the mercurial center. Her eyes never left his.

"This is wrong," she murmured as they turned, her voice quavering a little but her eyes were lit from within.

His heart clenched, "Does it feel wrong to you? Because, to me… nothing has ever felt more right."

He felt her shudder and he drew her closer as the music carried them on. "Oh Kíli," she breathed, "We can never be. Surely you know that-"

"Don't," he said harshly. "Let's not talk of this here, now. Just… dance with me and pretend a moment longer," his tone was pleading.

She gave him a gentle smile, her hand squeezing his shoulder lightly in reassurance, and nodded, "As you wish, but just for a moment longer." Her words held the promise of so much more than a moment. In her eyes he saw all the ages to come.

* * *

"What happens if they catch us?" Tauriel asked as they slipped through the wrought iron gate to the Queen's Garden. During a particularly rowdy limerick, performed by none other than a (drunken) Balin, they'd managed to slip away unnoticed. It wouldn't last long, he knew, but it was worth a few moments alone with her.

"Well, first they'll whip us and then likely boil us alive before finally skinning us and using our hides as decoration in the great gallery."

"Oh, ha ha," she muttered.

"Don't worry, I can weasel my way out of, or _into_ anything," he wiggled his brows at her and she rolled her eyes, swatting at him.

They walked further up the path and fell into darkness as they left the light of the hall behind them. She reached for him, finding his hand in the gloom, and their fingers interlocked. The memory of her lips on his was poignant and alluring and he trailed the tips of his fingers up her arm, relishing in her slight gasp and her answering shiver.

"Is it supposed to be so dark?" She asked, slightly breathless and he shook himself.

"Wait here," he murmured and squeezed her hand before feeling his way in the dark. It had been years since he'd come to the Garden, but he knew it like the back of his hand. As a child, it had been his favorite place, hand in hand with his mother and brother, before the Queen had died and the light in his Uncle's eyes had dimmed.

He found the lighting mechanism with little trouble and cranked the handle, grunting with effort as aging spokes ground together. The spark flew and lit the great braziers that lined the entire massive room, racing across the chamber and bringing it to life. He turned and watched as wonder broke across Tauriel's face. She stepped forward as though caught in a dream, her eyes wide and tilted upward as the ceiling sparkled in a near perfect reflection of the night sky. It hurt to look at her, she was so lovely, and he couldn't bear to consider that this might be their last night together. Surely Mahal and the Valar were not so cruel.

He came to her side and she looked down at him with her heart reflected in her eyes. "It's beautiful," she said, awed. He reached out to touch her face, to map the defined line of her cheek bone, across her jaw and over her slightly parted lips.

"I knew you would like it."

She grinned and his hand found hers again as he led her forward. Gold and marble statues lined the pebbled walkway, obscured by vibrant cave lichen but still beautiful. At the center of the 'garden' stood a giant golden statue of Mahal, complete with anvil and hammer. Tauriel stared up at it for a long silent moment, her features thoughtful, as though remembering something.

"There were flowers here once," he muttered absently, "special flowers, with waxy petals that my Uncle brought up from the caves to the far south."

"What was she like, the Queen?" She asked as they continued their walk, passing empty flower beds and worn stone benches.

Kíli thought hard for a moment, "I was barely out of childhood when she died, but I remember her smile and her kindness. I also remember one time in particular, when she was upset at my Uncle over something, that she challenged him in front of the entire court."

Tauriel chuckled, "I doubt King Thorin took that well."

Kíli grinned and shook his head, "According to my mother he turned so red Balin was afraid he'd burst, but, as it turned out, the Queen was right."

"Was your Uncle still angry?"

"Oh yes, he was apparently furious for weeks, but he admitted his fault in front everyone and never once raised his voice."

"He must have really loved her… how did she die?" She asked hesitantly.

Kíli gave her a sad sort of smile as they walked toward a large platform that rested beside the small, placid underground lake. "She died giving birth to my cousin when I was barely in my twenties. Thorin he- well, as I said, he hasn't ever really been the same. Her death, so soon after my grandfather's, made him harder, colder."

Something dark fluttered across her face and her fingers tightening unconsciously in his. He felt a tremor of apprehension creep through him as he drew her up the crumbling stone steps of the platform. The area, which had once been littered with comfortable couches and cushions, was almost completely covered in soft, fragrant lichen. It was dark here, the fire-light further away, almost like true night with the twinkling gems above. Feeling strangely nervous, his palms damp and hot, he drew her down to sit beside him.

"What are you thinking," he asked quietly as she stared out across the water. Her eyes were distant and she sat turned slightly away from him, the folds of her dress stark against the darkness.

"How my life before I met you feels strangely… blurry and indistinct," she said quietly, not looking at him, "like it doesn't really belong to me anymore."

He cleared his throat, "Do… do you regret it… _us_ I mean?" He nearly choked on the words, suddenly certain that he didn't really want her answer.

She turned to him at last, a wistful smile on her face that was tempered slightly by a tinge of sadness. Without a word she reached out to touch him, her fingers trailing fire along his cheeks and jaw. "My people don't have beards," she murmured and he felt heat crawl up his neck.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, voice hoarse.

She shook her head slightly, "No, I like it. Tis rough… yet soft. Like you." Her smile was mischievous as her hand continued on its journey, passing along the ridge of his throat and pausing at the thundering pulse in his neck. He shuddered, heat pooling in his belly as his breath stuttered in his chest. The questing digits passed on into his hair, rubbing deliciously along his scalp until his whole body tingled, every nerve on end as he clenched his fists at his sides. Eventually her fingers found the spot where she'd woven their hidden promise and, with hooded eyes, she unwound the braid from beneath his circlet.

"I could never regret you, Kíli."

Without consciously deciding to, he shifted forward so that he knelt above her and took her face in his hands. He drank in the sight of her -eyes dark and half lidded, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed- before he kissed her, long and deep. Her hands slid down his back as a soft moan slipped from her mouth and into his, letting him taste her pleasure, her desire for him. Feeling as though he were drowning, he let his hands smooth over the sides of her neck and across her bared shoulders, sure that he would go mad with wanting her.

Her hands slipped up and around, coursing slowly, deliciously over his stomach, and reaching for the laces of his doublet. Slightly disoriented, he pulled away to watch her lithe fingers slip the silvered thread slowly, purposefully free.

"Tauriel," he half groaned in protest as her fingers dipped down and through the gaps in his shirt, pressing against the bare flesh of his chest.

"Shh," she murmured and leaned forward to kiss the spot her fingers had branded as he let a harsh breath out through his nose. His fingers rose to card through her hair and he felt the promise braid within, carefully coiled and pinned against her scalp. He pulled it free as her mouth made a path up his chest and over his throat.

"No regrets," she murmured into his skin and slid his doublet off his shoulders.

* * *

Sometime later, when their breathing had become slow and languid, Kíli turned slightly onto his side and pressed a kiss to a thin scar just above her left breast. It took all his self-control not to linger.

"You have more scars than I do," he remarked as Tauriel languorously ran her fingers through his hair.

"Hmmm," she hummed and he shifted up so that her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, her eyes staring up at him from beneath her lashes. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks still flushed, and her lips slightly swollen. Kíli had to bite down on his lip to keep from groaning aloud. Just when he thought she couldn't be _more_ beautiful, more perfect, she proved him wrong.

"Training exercises mostly. I think that one was gifted to me by a particularly clumsy recruit."

He ducked his head and rubbed his thumb against another line near her hip.

"Orc raid," she muttered into his neck as she placed a wet kiss there, her hand ghosting over a large scar that crested over his chest and down toward his navel. "Another prank gone wrong?" She teased and he chuckled, but it faded as memory filled its place.

She must have seen something in his eyes because her movement stilled, "What is it?"

He shook his head, unable to meet her eye as he lightly brushed her hair over her shoulder. "I, well, it happened the day my father died."

"Oh, Kíli," she breathed, "I'm so sorry I didn't know-"

"Hush love," he said, kissing her lightly into stillness. "Don't apologize."

There was a moment of silence as she settled her head against his chest and he let his cheek rest against her hair. They should have been back ages ago, they're absence would have most certainly been noticed by now, but he found he couldn't move. In fact, he was fairly certain that he never wanted to move again, that he could be perfectly happy resting naked on his tunic with his belt digging into the small of his back with her draped over him forever.

"We were out on a hunting trip, Fíli, my father and I," he found himself saying as she traced nonsensical patterns into the skin of his chest and stomach, quietly fascinated by the hair there.

"It was only my third trip but, as usual, I thought I knew everything," he attempted to sound unaffected but he knew he had failed when she snuggled up closer to him.

"We were tracking a steer and I was far ahead, too far ahead, determined to get the kill and taunt Fíli with it." He wet his lips, finding that the memory was more painful than usual, that something about her nearness seemed to have made him raw, emotional, as though she'd peeled back several layers of his skin. "The Warg den was well hidden and I didn't see the dame until she was nearly upon me. I remember screaming, first my brother's name and then my father's, as she took a swipe at me. I managed to leap back enough to save my life but I've the scar to prove how near a thing that was. My-" He took a shaky breath, feeling foolish, but she was rubbing soothing hands against his skin, silently encouraging him as he had once encouraged her. "My father saved me, stabbed the beast in her chest, but not before she took a bite at his side. Fíli and I… we carried him home and he died three days later."

She cooed at him and whispered words of comfort to him in the language of her people, some of which he understood and other's he did not, but their intent was clear enough. "It was a long time ago," he muttered, blinking back tears.

"Some wounds never heal, _meleth_ ," she said softly then bent to kiss the scar, "Some wounds we carry all our lives."

He drew her up and kissed her, pouring all his gratitude and love into the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue.

"We should get back," he said when they broke apart.

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly.

They helped each other dress, hands lingering so that it took much longer than necessary. He made to help her tuck her promise braid back into its coil but she reached a hand out to stop him.

"There is no going back now, _meleth_ , perhaps the time for secrets is over?"

He swallowed, fear and pleasure clashing within him, "If you're ready, I'm ready."

"Whatever happens Kíli, I want you to know that my time with you has been the happiest in all my life."

He smirked a little, "Well, even though you've got a few hundred years on me, I feel exactly the same."

She chuckled lightly then bent to place a kiss on his head before settling his crown back in its place. Somehow, it almost felt as though she was saying goodbye.

* * *

Skittering through the halls and giggling like wicked children, they weren't prepared for what awaited them as they ducked around a corner.

Kíli slammed to a halt and Tauriel stumbled into him from behind, nearly sending them both flat on their faces before his King and hers. Legolas stood at his father's side, murder in his eyes and a deep knowing look. His mother hung off his Uncle's arm with an expression of utter bafflement on her face while Fíli stood anxiously in the back ground, clearly upset.

"I did not want to believe this was true," Thorin said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Uncle, I-" He started to say and then stopped, completely at a loss. He hadn't expected they'd have to reveal their relationship quite so… publicly.

"Tell me that you have not promised yourself to this… this _Elf_ , nephew," his Uncle spat, red fury blossoming in his face. King Thranduil looked more amused than anything, something deep and secretive swimming in his eyes as he surveyed them.

He took a breath and then another as Tauriel's fingers tightened in his and she moved to stand at his side. She gave him courage.

"It… is true Uncle, we are promised," he said as firmly as he could. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest and his confidence grew. This was right, he knew it without a shadow of a doubt.

Fury burned hot and fast in his Uncle's eyes."You great _fool_ ," he spat viciously, "Don't you understand what you've done." The King shrugged out of his sister's grasp and thundered toward him. Kíli held his ground, though it took all his will and self control, Tauriel's hand like an anchor in the storm. He had never seen his uncle so furious.

"You are a son of Durin! In line for the throne behind your brother, how could you _do_ this? How could you be so _selfish_!"

"Selfish!" Kíli bellowed, his self restraint snapping in an instant. "Selfish is sitting holed up in our mountain counting our coins and jewels while the rest of the world slowly slips into darkness. Selfish is turning a blind eye to the world and behaving as though we're no longer a part of it. You accuse _me_ of being selfish while you are too blinded by your own grief and hatred to think of anyone or anything outside the mountain-"

The blow came hard and fast and Kíli's vision blurred as he clutched his cheek in shock. He lost his grip on Tauriel's hand, who breathed out a shocked gasp. Tasting blood, he licked his lip and gathered himself, staring his Uncle down.

"Thorin!" Dís cried, her voice brimming with anger and fear as her brother advanced again. In that moment Tauriel stepped between them, her eyes blazing and full of unshed tears.

"Enough, my lord," she said, voice unsteady, "I will leave."

Kíli felt his lungs collapse in his chest. "What?" he demanded, shaking his head slightly.

She turned to him, her face a mask of pain and sadness, "These are your people, _meleth_ , I will not let you forsake them for me."

"Tauriel, no," he insisted, his heart a painful lump within his breast, dulling the ache in his jaw until it was all but gone.

A tear slid down her cheek. "No regrets, Kíli... but this has always been little more than a beautiful dream. You've your duties here, and I have mine. I would not see you banished from your homeland, from your family, for me."

He gripped her hand fiercely in his, "I would give it all and more for you."

Her smile was heartbreaking as she said, "I know you would, I know that. But how can I claim to love you if I take you from everyone and everything you hold dear? No, it… it is better this way."

She slipped her hand from his and something bright and warm died in his chest.

"Tauriel," Legolas said, reminding Kíli they were not alone as he blinked blurrily about him. Everything felt surreal, as though he were looking at the rest of the world through several inches of water. "Come," the Elven Prince commanded, his eyes furious and filled with a sharp undercurrent of hurt and betrayal. Kili suspected his heart was not the only one to have been broken this night.

Tauriel leaned forward, the hall utterly silent as she kissed his brow and whispered her love for him against his skin. Then she was gone, following her Prince down the hall at a fast walk, her shoulders slumped in defeat. King Thranduil paused briefly, glancing back at him as something curious and contemplative lingered in his eyes, before he too swept away.

"Tauriel!" Kili bellowed and made to follow after her. His Uncle caught him in a vice like grip.

"You've done enough damage as it is, do not make it worse," Thorin growled. "You are dismissed, nephew, and we will be having a very long talk once the Elves have gone."

Kíli yanked his arm from his Uncle's grasp, and fixed him with a hard stare. "I will never forgive you for this," he said tonelessly, and without a backward glance he turned and disappeared down the hall, ignoring his mother as she called after him.

* * *

His Uncle had all but forbidden him to come to the sendoff, but Kíli would risk any amount of his displeasure to see her, if only one last time. He arrived just as they were departing, slipping in past Dwalin and Balin. His Uncle caught sight of him almost immediately and his glare would have been enough to fell dragons. But he took a breath and called her name, rushing forward and dodging his brother's reaching grasp.

Tauriel met his gaze and it was filled with such an infinite sadness and longing that he would have done anything, climbed any mountain, completed any feat, if only to see her smile again. She shook her head, eyes pleading with him not to make this harder for her than it already was and turned away, following after her King without a word.

With a low growl, Kíli stepped after her.

"Kíli," his Uncle warned, but he ignored him as he strode forward and caught Tauriel's wrist. She turned slowly, reluctantly, and tears swam in her eyes.

He pressed something into her hand and she blinked down in surprise at the stone there. She ran a finger across the runes he'd carved and shook her head.

"What-"

"It's a promise, take it, and know that I will come for you." His voice broached no room for discussion. He'd never been surer of anything in all his life. He'd spent the entire long night alone in the Garden planning and plotting, knowing there was no chance he could let her go.

"Kíli," she half groaned, "They will never allow it-"

"I don't care what they will allow, I love you and I will not rest until we can be together."

She gasped at his words even as her cheeks flushed and her eyes warmed. He closed her fingers around the rune stone and, feeling particularly bold and reckless, tugged her down to place a quick but heated kiss on her lips.

"Whatever it takes Tauriel," he murmured as they parted to a series of horrified gasps.

She sniffed and smiled as something in her gave way and opened up. "Whatever it takes," she agreed and then, with a final backward glance, departed.

"Well," Fíli said behind him with forced casualness, "That was certainly revealing."

"Yes, well, I suppose we'll have to start making arrangements." His mother said a moment later and Kíli spun around in shock. Thorin looked down at his sister as though she'd grown a second head.

"You can't be serious-" Thorin began but his sister cut him off, her eyes glinting steel.

"Their bond could be the bridge between our people, Thorin," she said.

"Yes but, it's never been done-"

"How do we know? In the ages past our peoples existed in peace and friendship, who is to say it has not happened before?"

"Surely we would have heard some mention-"

"Would we?" Dís challenged, clearly not to be swayed. "Much of our ancient knowledge was lost in Khazad-dûm and further buried by old, antiquated prejudices."

Thorin shook his head stubbornly, "I won't hear of it. No Prince of Durin is going to marry some, some Woodland _fairy_."

Kíli ground his teeth, "Then I am a Prince no longer." Fíli turned to him with a strangled gasp but he plowed on.

"I will relinquish my title, my holdings, and all my possessions. If they come at the price of my heart than I do not want them."

Thorin glared, "Now listen here boy-"

"I am not a boy, Uncle," he snapped, "I am a dwarf grown and I know the callings of my heart as well as any. If you will not consent to our union than I will leave."

Silence fell as Thorin attempted to glare him straight into the ground, but Kíli would not be cowed, he meant every single word. He would leave tonight, taking what he could, and beg her to come with him. They could travel north, to the woods outside the Blue Mountains. He would build her a lovely cabin and they could make a simple, peaceful life for themselves-

"King Thranduil has already offered her hand," Thorin said, deflating visibly.

"W-what?" Kíli stuttered, sure he'd misheard him.

"He came to me after the... _incident_ in the hall and insisted that it would be a fruitful and blessed union." He admitted and Dís glared at him, looking very like she wanted to push him from the bridge.

"So," Fíli remarked, rocking awkwardly back and forth on his feet. "A double wedding then?"

Thorin shot him a glare, "What do you-"

Fíli coughed and flushed and Briala smiled down at her feet as understanding dawned on their Uncle's face. He looked as though Durin himself had suddenly appeared and handed him a flagon of ale and patted him on the back.

"Truly," he demanded, looking to his daughter who raised her head and nodded once with a brilliant and joyful smile on her face. Suddenly the promise braid hanging across her right shoulder was very obvious.

"Ha!" Thorin bellowed and swept them both up in a crushing hug. Kíli flinched in sympathy as Fíli's face recoiled briefly in pain. Their Uncle pulled back and he kissed them both on the cheek, grinning from ear to ear.

Fíli glanced his brother's direction and took a deep breath, pulling himself to his full height. "I have but one request Uncle," he looked down at his intended who took his hand in hers. "We both do," Briala insisted, doing a fair imitation of her Aunt's penetrating stare.

"You must allow Kíli and Tauriel to wed, it would be good for our people Uncle and, well, he is my brother and your nephew and surely he deserves happiness." Kíli had never loved his brother more than in that moment and, perhaps for the first time, he began to comprehend that someday his elder brother would be King. He knew in his heart that he would be a great one.

Thorin's jaw clenched for a moment, his eyes burning like dragon fire, before he sighed and his shoulders sagged. He turned to Kíli, "You are sure this is what you want? It will not be easy for your Elf maid to live amongst us and there are many who will be offended by the union-"

"You mean Dain?" Dís scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "His daughter is a conniving little harlot, let her screech and wail."

"Yes," Thorin growled, "But she is not the only one who will 'screech and wail.' This union will shake the entire kingdom and I will not allow it unless I am certain you mean to see it through."

Kíli took a breath and bowed low, "I have never been surer of anything in my life Uncle, I will do whatever I must to prove it to you."

Thorin rubbed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something under his breath. "Very well, nephew, I give you my blessing."

There was a long, shocked pause before Kíli burst forward and caught his Uncle in a fierce hug. "Thank you Uncle, thank you," he breathed, his relief and happiness so acute that he shook.

Thorin sighed and patted him lightly on the back, "Yes well, I'm sure I'll regret it, just see that you take your duties a little more seriously from now on, hum?"

"Yes Uncle," Kíli said, "Anything. Thank you."

Thorin grunted and pulled back, raising a brow at him with something suspiciously like a smirk playing along his lips. "Well?"

"Well what?" He wondered, so pleased he could barely form two thoughts together.

"Aren't you going to go retrieve your betrothed?"

Kíli beamed and let a surprised bark of laughter. "Thank you Uncle, thank you," he said again, incapable of saying anything else.

Thorin rolled his eyes, "Off with you before I change my mind."

Kíli turned and hugged his brother; they touched heads lightly as he murmured his gratitude. "You would have done the same for me," Fíli said wirily.

"A thousand times over," he agreed and then swept his new sister-to-be into his arms and swung her around. Briala squealed with laughter and surprise as he bent to plant a sloppy kiss on her cheek while Fíli looked on in exasperated amusement.

Lastly he stepped to his mother, much more subdued, and she kissed his forehead, her eyes warm and full of her love for him. "Go my reckless, incorrigible son. I am proud of you."

"Thank you mother," he said, kissing her cheek and then all but ran down the steps and into the hall below, yelling for a pony to be brought immediately.

* * *

He'd never ridden so fast or hard in his life, but he needn't have, because she came barreling toward him halfway to Dale.

They both reigned in and her face had a stricken quality to it that made his heart pound fearfully in his breast. He all but leapt from the saddle as he rushed to her side while she dismounted.

"What is it, what's happened?" He demanded, his mind racing.

"Let's go," she said earnestly and took his hands in hers, eyes desperate and wild. "We can go north, or even south if you'd like, I don't care, but let's go. I- I can't bear to be parted from you. I won't be. I've had enough loss for several lifetimes and I will suffer no more if I can help it."

Understanding dawned and he thought that if Mahal struck him dead right then and there he could have died happily. A smile broke across his face and he reached out to touch her face gently. She shook him away impatiently with a shaky breath.

"We haven't time, we must go now- wait, where were you headed, is everything well? Did your Uncle punish you!?" She asked, growing increasingly more distressed.

His grin was slow and devious as he said, "Well, some _might_ consider it a punishment, perhaps."

She frowned at him in confusion, "What? I don't understand… he hasn't banished you has he?" She gasped." Valar, Kíli I am so sorry, I-"

" _Amralime_ ," he muttered affectionately, chuckling and shaking his head ruefully. "He's given us his blessing."

"I think if we ride hard we can make the Gray Mountains in three days and follow the rivers- wait, what did you say?" Her face flushed as disbelief clouded her features.

He took her face in his hands and pulled her too him, kissing her soundly and purposefully, as though they had all the time in the world. When he pulled away her eyes were glassy and bemused.

"I'll have a new set of rooms commissioned," he said, "with a wide balcony and a garden, unless you'd rather live among your people, but I get the feeling your Prince doesn't like me overly much-"

"King Thorin truly gave his blessing?" She interrupted.

He gave her a slow smile as he trailed his hand down her arms to take her hands in his once more, "Aye, and with your King's permission, apparently. According to my Uncle, King Thranduil offered up your hand in marriage."

She shook her head in disbelief, "I thought it strange that he didn't try to impede my departure…" She swallowed thickly. "I- I don't know what to say."

"I don't mean to pressure you," he said lightly, "but perhaps a 'yes Kíli I would love to marry you and spend the rest of my days by your side' might be appropriate."

She laughed then and it was a sound of pure joy that carried through the valley and filled him body and soul. "Yes," she said without hesitation. "Yes, Prince Kíli, I will marry you."

He pulled her down for a long, heated kiss, the dust of the road swirling around them and their horses nickering impatiently. She pulled back, her breath whispering hot and moist across his lips, "On one condition, however."

"Name it," he said, eager and _very_ foolish.

* * *

"Sooooo," Kíli said after what was likely the longest, most uncomfortable silence of his life.

"Indeed," Legolas replied, arms crossed moodily over his chest. He almost appeared to be _pouting_.

Outside they could hear the lively music of the celebration - _his_ betrothal celebration, in fact. They had been forbidden to leave the cramped little room, however, until they had come to terms, on pain of a quick and terrible death.

"I don't like you much," Kíli said matter-of-factly, bracing his elbows on the small table between them.

"And I'm sure I like you even less," the Elven Prince said dryly.

"And there's really no way we're coming out of this room as friends."

"It seems highly unlikely."

"But if we don't get along, Tauriel will be upset," Kíli reminded him.

Legolas nodded grimly, "That appears to be the issue."

"And we both love her, apparently," Kíli said, barely keeping the growl from his voice.

Legolas just narrowed his eyes, but his cheeks darkened a little.

"So I see only two options."

"Which are?"

"The first, and by far my favorite, -we fight to the death," he said, and the Elf's eyes brightened measurably. "Unfortunately the survivor of said battle would have to live with her ire for the rest of their lives. And some of us have much longer lives than others."

Legolas grunted begrudgingly, looking a little too disappointed for Kíli's liking. He wouldn't say he was _afraid_ of the Elf Prince, precisely; it was more that he was acutely aware of the fact that one of them had had thousands of years to practice their combat skills… and one of them had not.

" _Or_ , we could just pretend."

Legoals raised an imperious brow. "Pretend?"

Kíli nodded enthusiastically. "Aye, pretend. Act like we get on, you know, just when Tauriel's about."

"And you don't think she'll see through that?"

Kíli smirked and his eyes were challenging, "I can pull it off if you can _elf_."

Legolas's eyes narrowed until they were bare slits. "You're on, _dwarf."_

* * *

Looking more radiant than he'd ever seen her, Tauriel descended upon him in a rush of silk and sweet smelling hair. Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him brazenly before all those gathered. Kíli could have sworn he saw Orí spit wine into his brother's face from the corner of his eye, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Thorin's glass had actually shattered in his clenched fist. He really couldn't have cared less.

"I am so pleased you and Prince Legolas were able to see past your differences," she gushed, near bursting with pleasure as she drew away. He kept his hands on her hips, drawing her close again. If they were going to cause a terrible scandal, he might as well make it worth it.

"Anything for you," he said seriously, with his most convincing smile.

She made a soft noise of happiness and drew him up into a tight hug. Over her shoulder, through the thick curtain of her hair, he saw Legolas scowling at him over the brim of his wine glass. Still smiling, Kíli shot him a rude gesture which the Elf Prince kindly returned.

Everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. I hope everyone enjoyed this work and sorry if it left anyone with a tooth ache, I tried guys, I tried. -flails-.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, well, there it is. Should have the second part up soonish, just editing it up. I would love to hear what you think and I hope you enjoyed this so far Irrel because you're lovely and you deserve happy Kiliel fics.


End file.
